Choix
by eldritchMortician
Summary: Professor Snape is surprised by an old friend who's come to teach at Hogwarts. What will this, and other major complications mean not only for him, but the Trio as well, particularly with his status as a spy threatened? AU book 6
1. Introduction

_Disclaimer: This is a work of Fan Fiction_. _I do not own Harry Potter, nor any other characters in J.K. Rowling's books. I hope no one tries to sue me, as they wouldn't get too awfully much anyway. Gabriel and January DeLancy are original characters copyright me. This story is set in an AU book 6, therefore many things will be different. R/R appreciated!

* * *

_

Choix: Introduction

For the first time since he'd taken a position at Hogwarts, Severus Snape was looking forward to the start of a new school year.

He'd fully expected this year, like all the others, to see himself passed over for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Every year he'd applied. Every year Albus Dumbledore informed him the position had been filled, and offered him some sickly-sweet confection as if to soften the blow.

That summer, however, Albus surprised him. He'd waited for those same five words, and was halfway to his usual curt nod and refusal of offered sweets when he realized there was in fact a sixth word worked into the sentence. What Albus had actually said was; "The _potions_ position has been filled." He'd been almost too surprised to reply as Dumbledore went on to inform him that the DADA position was Snape's, if he were still interested.

It hadn't taken him all that long to move his few belongings from his own windowless quarters in the dungeon to one closer to the DADA classroom, splitting the difference between the Slytherin dorm rooms and the class, as he remained head of his old house. He was pleased, though couldn't be described as elated, precisely. After all he still had to contend with the woefully inadequate students, to say nothing of Harry Potter and his little gang, whom he expected would be no different in their sixth year than they had been in the previous five he'd had to put up with them. Still, he undeniably felt a sense of great satisfaction. Finally he'd attained the position that should have been his in the first place. He wondered who he had to thank for taking over the Potions position.

It was half past nine at night, two days before start of term when Dumbledore summoned him to ask him up to the Headmaster's office to welcome the new professor. It seemed late in the day for an arrival; the professors usually came in around midday. The thought occupied him only idly as he climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office. A moment later the reason for that late hour was explained.

The new Potions professor was seated in an armchair, in amiable conversation with Dumbledore, a pale hand holding a snifter of brandy. As Snape arrived, the man looked up and grinned widely.

"Severus! Good to see you!" He exclaimed. Snape goggled.

"Severus, I do believe you know Professor DeLancy." Dumbledore said, benignly, as the new professor sprang lightly to his feet to grasp Snape's hand and clap him on the shoulder.

Of course he knew Professor Gabriel DeLancy. He was Snape's old potions professor, one of his few true friends . . . and a 400 year old vampire.

* * *

_More to come, please r/r. Things are going to get more and more complicated, not only for Severus Snape, but everyone's favourite trio as well! Don't worry, I'll update soon. Thanks for reading!_


	2. A Vampire's Charms

_Welcome to chapter 1! Usual disclaimers apply, I own not a thing but my own characters!

* * *

_

Choix, Chapter 1: A Vampire's Charms

Snape did something quite rare for him, and broke into a smile. "You never mentioned you were leaving Versailles, Gabriel." He said as they settled into their armchairs, all three with a snifter of brandy.

The vampire shrugged, liquidly, offering one of his rare, full grins, exposing the tips of white fangs. "Well, I imagined I'd see you soon enough. And thought to catch a rare glimpse of Severus Snape surprised." He said, with a sibilant trace of French accent.

DeLancy was an albino; his white hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders, his eyes blood red. Snape had no idea if he'd looked quite that way before he was turned, and it was a subject that never really came up. The man was wickedly handsome, as vampires tended to be, and eternally twenty-five years of age. Snape felt a small twinge of jealousy, realizing that Gabriel looked exactly as he had so many years ago when he'd been teaching potions. In fact, the only difference apparent to him was the hidden melancholy in the vampire's eyes, once a shadow of past pain, now strengthened into deep sorrow, concealed behind the charming exterior.

For a moment, he had a familiar pang of guilt.

Professor DeLancy had at one time, years ago, befriended one of his students; a small, dark boy who was avoided even by his fellow Slytherins for the most part. Perhaps the professor had seen something of himself, perhaps he was motivated by compassion, who knew. Whatever his reasons, he had become something of a mentor over time, helping the young Severus to hone his potionmaking skills, watching out for the boy as best he could, confined as he was to the dungeons during daylight hours. It could almost have been described as a fine time for the boy; for three years he'd looked forward to the beginning of the school year. He'd been more than a bit distressed when Gabriel had resigned his position to move back to France with his new bride, leaving him beginning his fourth year with no allies.

They'd kept up occasional correspondence, however looking back Severus knew his letters couldn't have been pleasant to read. He'd railed against his treatment, his letters often starring the Marauders, and more specifically James Potter, as his primary villains. Eventually after he'd left school there came another letter from DeLancy, inquiring about disturbing rumors of Severus' activities and associates. He'd never replied to that, nor to the next several letters his old friend had sent, and eventually they stopped altogether. He'd always felt more than a little guilty about that, knowing Gabriel had only his best intentions in mind. He'd felt even worse when, a week before Voldemort's fateful attack on the Potters, it was reported that Gabriel DeLancy had come home to find the Dark Mark blazing above his manor, and his wife raped and murdered inside. It was merest luck, if one could call it that, that the vampire had arrived before they'd gotten to his eight year old daughter, witness to the entire attack. Severus hadn't even been able to bring himself to send his condolences.

Eventually their friendship had renewed, when the French wizarding newspapers had made mention of Snape's position at Hogwarts in the form of an offhand comment by Dumbledore. DeLancy had written him a letter of belated congratulations, and Snape replied with one of belated condolences. Their communication continued, though was at times sporadic owing to the vampire's rather relaxed view of time being, as he was, over 400 years of age. Still, they'd kept in touch through the years.

Snape smirked slightly, glancing over at Gabriel's immaculate silks and velvets, his ageless face. "The years have certainly been kind to your looks." He commented, dryly.

DeLancy laughed, tossing up a hand. "The nature of the beast." He grinned. "You look well old friend. Still with your head stuck in the cauldron at all hours, and refusing to charm your hair against the effects of the steam, I take it?"

Snape only smirked. Gabriel was probably the only person in the known world who could get away with a comment like that. "I never did develop your vanity." He replied, returning the man's jibe. "And you may want to rethink those outfits you favor before someone manages to explode a cauldron of potion on your velvet." He nodded toward the deep red waistcoat. It had always been Gabriel's fashion to dress well, if rather anachronistically.

Gabriel only chuckled at that. "You may yet be right." He admitted.

Dumbledore, for his part, kept the two quiet company, blue eyes merry, either at seeing a rare, pleasant Snape, or perhaps from the brandy.

"At any rate, what on Earth could have dragged you from your beloved country?" Snape asked, finally. "I was under the impression from your letters you were giving consideration to a position at Beauxbatons?"

DeLancy nodded slightly. "That I was, but when Albus makes a request, and an offer, well . . ." He nodded to Dumbledore, smiling slightly, but then became serious. "And I'll be . . . helping out. With the Order."

Snape nodded, just as grimly. He had wondered, after all, if that was part of the reason for the vampire's arrival. With Voldemort determined to recruit as many creatures of the night as possible, and the Ministry's (and the wizarding world's in general) blatant bias against them, it was little wonder Dumbledore had recruited someone for their side, particularly a powerful Master vampire such as Gabriel. Thus far the majority of vampires had either joined with Voldemort, or washed their hands of the puny mortals' affairs entirely.

"Perhaps with the help of Professor DeLancy we can begin to turn the tide in a more favorable direction." Said Dumbledore, quietly, as though he'd read Snape's thoughts.

Snape nodded, as DeLancy sipped his brandy in silence, his eyes far away, saddened for a long moment before he spoke again, his voice falsely cheerful. "Well there's plenty of time for that discussion." He waved his hand, dismissively, smiling. "Suffice it to say the decision was based on multiple factors, and I'm more than happy to resume my old post. I am sorry to kick you out of your quarters, Severus, but you'll remember I don't get on too well with sunlight streaming through my windows." He grinned, wolfishly.

Severus returned the grin. "Not at all."

Gabriel inclined his head in thanks. "I'll settle in tonight, I suppose . . . January will be arriving on the express with the other students . . ."

"January?" Asked Snape, startled. "Your daughter? But she was eight already when . . . " he broke off, not certain if he should complete the sentence.

His companion nodded. "Yes, well . . . due to her parentage . . . dhampir age half as fast as humans. I sent her to Beauxbatons once she was physically eleven. I couldn't send her looking five, after all. And it did take a bit of time to help her learn to control her . . . thirst. She'll be twenty-six come October."

Severus nodded slightly. "And physically . . . thirteen or so?" He frowned slightly. How frustrating that would be. He'd loathed his teenage years, and couldn't begin to imagine them going on twice as long as they already had.

Gabriel nodded. "Yes, a bit younger looking than her fellow fifth years, but it can't be helped, she wouldn't hear of waiting longer." He paused, glancing up at Snape. "I did have a favor to ask, as I'm a bit confined to the dungeon during the day . . . "

Snape smiled slightly, anticipating him. "If need be I'll look out for her." He promised, though he imagined if she took after her father, and particularly at her age, she'd be well equipped to handle her own affairs. Still, if it eased his mentor's mind, so be it.

Gabriel grinned his thanks, and glanced back up at Dumbledore. "At any rate, I do look forward to teaching again. My only hope is that I don't forget my English, the directions are subtle enough without having to be translated . . ."

Dumbledore smiled, cheerfully. "Well, I've long been saying we needed a foreign language program at Hogwarts."

DeLancy inclined his head, grinning. "Be careful, Albus, I might consider that another offer." He said, cheerfully, and addressed Snape again. "Ah, well. Now that I'm locked into this for at the very least the year, how do you find teaching Potions, Severus?"

Snape couldn't contain his snort. "What was it you always said? It would be a fine job if not for the damn students?"

Gabriel laughed, full and loud, and even Dumbledore smiled, if slightly. "I suppose I did say something of the sort." He admitted. "Anyone to watch out for in particular?"

Snape was about to reply with a resounding affirmative when he recalled in whose company he was, and opted for a small shake of his head. Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at him, and inquired no further until they'd bid Dumbledore goodnight, and moved into the deserted hallways. His ruby eyes slid to look sidelong at his old friend.

"You were saying?" He asked, with a smirk.

Snape sniffed, derisively. "Harry Potter. Not to mention his little band of cohorts. Of all the student body he's the most disrespectful, unruly . . . "

"_The_ Harry Potter?" Inquired the vampire, digesting this a moment, realization dawning. "Ah. James Potter's son, then?"

Snape's mouth set in a thin line. "Yes. Every bit as arrogant, intolerable, and disregarding of the rules as his father ever was."

Gabriel nodded slightly, expressionless. "Of course I read about him, though reports are a bit fewer in my home country." He paused, frowning slightly over at Snape. "I did wonder . . . the . . . papers said his mother's name was Lily . . . was that . . . ?"

"Yes." His voice was sharper than he intended, but his old friend merely nodded, almost sadly.

"I see." He murmured.

* * *

Two days later was the beginning of the term at Hogwarts, the opening feast, and the first time Snape laid eyes on his friend's daughter, January DeLancy. 

He'd paid little attention to the line of first years, instead his thoughts occupied with lesson plans, or stealing baleful glances at Harry Potter and company, all of whom had returned for their sixth year, and sadly looked relatively happy and well.

It seemed an eternity before Wulfgar, Chana was sorted off into Ravenclaw and Dumbledore announced the fifth year transfer student from Beauxbatons. Out of respect for his old friend, and a bit of curiosity, Snape looked up to watch the sorting.

The girl was every inch her father's daughter, with platinum blonde ringlets falling neatly past her slender shoulders, and large, deep garnet eyes. She was pale, exceedingly pretty, and had the look of an antique porcelain doll with a dark, full mouth. He caught a glimpse of white lace at the collar and cuffs of her black school robes. She seated herself, daintily on the stool as Dumbledore place the sorting hat on her pale hair. There was a fair bit of pause as the hat made up its mind. Snape imagined that if she were like her father the question would be between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Finally the rip in the brim opened.

"Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table erupted in applause, and Snape joined the other teachers in theirs. Beside him at the head table Gabriel grinned. Severus noted that more than a few of the male students followed the girl with their eyes as she moved to take a seat at the Slytherin table. It was, after all, in the nature of a vampire to be attractive to lure their prey; it wasn't much of a stretch to assume a dhampir would share some of those qualities. And, quite frankly, the girl _was_ attractive, in a Lolita sort of way.

* * *

"Well . . . he _is_ very handsome, after all . . . " Muttered Hermione, blushing and stealing another glance at the new Potions professor. 

Ron scowled. "Thought you learned that lesson with Lockhart." He growled. "I mean, look. He took over _Potions_, Hermione. He gave that great slimy git Snape exactly what he's been drooling over. And look at them up there, chummy as anything. Then that girl, she's got to be his kid. She's got his last name and looks like a bloody female version of him. You see where she ended up, don't you?"

Hermione scowled at him. "You're just determined to think the worst, aren't you?" She accused. "You heard Professor Dumbledore. He used to teach here, and he's been hired back, even though he doesn't look very old . . . " She glanced back up, curiously. "Besides, Dumbledore trusts him."

Ron snorted. "He trusts Snape too."

Hermione huffed. "I keep telling you he must have his reasons." She sniped, looking appealingly to the final member of their trio. "What do you think, Harry?" She asked, leadingly.

Harry, who up until this point had been staring warily at the Slytherin table, frowned. "Well. I think the new girl has found some fast friends over there." He said, nodding toward her.

January seemed engaged in a fairly friendly conversation with Draco Malfoy, who was ignoring entirely his accomplices Crabbe and Goyle's attempts to join in. Ron snorted.

"Well there's a pair right there." He said, shaking his head. "Do you think their kids'll be able to go out in the sun without bursting into flames?"

"Oh Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Hey, don't fuss at me just because they're both paler than any ghost in here . . . "

"Maybe she's just being friendly . . . doesn't know what sort he is." Suggested Harry, though he didn't sound convinced once he glanced up to a rare sight at the head table.

Snape was smiling. Harry was under the impression up until then that it was a physical impossibility for the man. Nevertheless, slight as it was, the fact remained that he had, in fact smiled, and it was in response to something the new Potions professor had said.

He looked back to his friends, watching Hermione steal yet another glance up to the head table at DeLancy, and Ron grumbling, stabbing his potatoes.

Two hours in, the term was already off to an interesting start.

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. More to come, soon, I swear!_


	3. Very Slytherin Indeed

_Choix Chapter 2: Very Slytherin Indeed_

Ron was not at all happy when they headed to potions the next day. He was thoroughly expecting Professor DeLancy to be an albino clone of Snape and therefore evil. Hermione, on the other hand, was quite impressed with the text he'd assigned, _Unlocking the Secrets of Potions_, which was one of the thicker tomes they'd been required to purchase that year. She'd apparently read the majority of it, as usual, and was going on and on about the chapter on experiments with potions, as well as the complex and dangerous recipes they'd apparently be attempting.

Harry was just glad to be in potions at all, having only achieved an E in his Potions O.W.L. rather than the O Snape was said to require. Apparently Professor DeLancy was more flexible on that front, a fact made apparent when Neville Longbottom joined them, carrying a new cauldron as he'd melted his previous one at the end of the year.

As the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students filed in, hushed, the Professor waved them toward their seats, regarding them with sharp, blood red eyes. Harry noted several of the girls, Hermione included, paid rapt attention indeed to the handsome Professor, and he exchanged a look with Ron. "It's Lockhart all over again." Muttered the redhead. "I just know it."

DeLancy smiled after a moment, broadly though without showing his teeth, and stood, bringing the class to order. "Good morning." He greeted, his voice deep and smooth as dark chocolate, with a hint of French accent. "I am Professor Gabriel DeLancy, a returning Professor, as Albus Dumbledore mentioned, and I shall be teaching you potions this year . . . It's quite the subtle art, and what I will teach has the power to bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses . . . bottle fame, brew glory . . . and even stopper death." His voice had melted into a silky purr.

Ron looked askance at Harry, his horror quite clear as Snape's words from first year echoed back at them. It seemed to confirm everything he'd been expecting. Hermione on the other hand paid rapt attention, and if she recognized the little speech, she gave no indication.

However, the Professor smiled a bit, flipping open his text and looking back up at the class. "As it's our first day, perhaps we should start with something fairly elementary . . . you'll find a Nightmare Elixir on page 110. Have at it, and whatever you do don't drink it or get it on you. If you do please see me before the end of class."

The students moved to their cauldrons and began work, while Professor DeLancy took a moment to tie his white hair back with a black velvet ribbon, and placed a charm on it, presumably to protect it from the fumes. He began slowly moving through the group, checking their progress. Hermione grew pink as he passed, praising her work so far, and suggesting she set her tools to grinding the wormwood with charms. "Don't forget your other classes." He admonished the class. "Charms will save you time and effort if done properly." He left several girls blushing in his wake, apparently not noticing or choosing to ignore the fact, and moved on to the other students.

Ron was looking more and more apprehensive as their pale Professor approached. Rather than the deep, forest green the potion was supposed to be, his had turned a seething, malevolent emerald. Professor DeLancy stopped at Ron's cauldron, cocking his head slightly, and inhaled deeply of the steam rising from the mixture. He looked at Ron, using his notebook to waft the steam toward the young man. "What do you smell?"

Ears bright red as the rest of the class took notice of the proceedings, Ron sniffed at the steam and made a face. "Like . . . bitter licorice." He ventured.

DeLancy nodded, with a slight smile. "Too much wormwood, Mr. Weasley. That explains the scent as well as the colour. You should be careful with measuring . . . but in this case you've reminded me of something I meant to mention." He said, mildly, and turned toward the class. "I'd like everyone to pause a moment to file by this cauldron here and smell the contents." Despite the attention, Ron was slowly relaxing, though his ears remained a bit flushed as the Professor continued. "Wormwood is the active ingredient in this potion, and is quite potent and potentially dangerous as . . . well can someone tell me why?"

Not surprisingly, Hermione's hand shot up, and when the professor nodded to her she blushed a little. "Wormwood in higher concentrations is also the primary active ingredient in an Insanity Solution. It also, without the buffer of the other ingredients in a potion, is at least as deadly as Nightshade if ingested."

DeLancy smiled. "Good." He purred. "Ten points to Gryffindor." Hermione smiled brilliantly as their instructor continued. "As this is the case, Mr. Weasley's cauldron contains a Nightmare Elixir of vicious strength, that actually has potential to traumatize the victim psychologically, which really isn't the intent of the potion, but is interesting . . ." He mused, as the students filed past, sniffing the fumes. "Now, keep in mind that when you smell the contents of a heated cauldron like this, always waft the fumes toward yourself rather than sticking your head in the cauldron . . . " He warned, just as Neville did exactly that and was splattered across the face when a large bubble burst on the surface of the potion. Neville cowered, not burned, though his face was half-covered in angry green potion. Hermione shoved a rag into his hands to wipe his face.

Professor DeLancy sighed, deeply, and pinched the bridge of his nose, ruby eyes closed for a long moment, and a tense silence descended before he finally looked back up to Neville, whose face was slightly reddish where some of the potion had soaked in on contact. "Longbottom, yes?" He asked, as though Neville's reputation preceded him.

Neville cringed, and nodded, slowly. "Y-yes, Sir." He fairly whispered.

DeLancy sighed again, and continued, addressing the class. "As I was saying, that would be the reason one should not stick one's head in or closely over one's cauldron." He turned to Neville, shaking his head slightly, though not unkindly. "Were you burned at all?" He asked. Neville shook his head, mutely. "All right then . . . the redness is already fading, however . . . I'll give you a note for Madam Pomfrey. At that potency you'll be needing a dose of Dreamless Sleep tonight. Don't neglect that." He said, seriously.

The rest of the class period was surprisingly pleasant. Professor DeLancy was exacting, never failing to point out when a student was going wrong, or could improve, but he was also quite mild and fair. Mistakes were pointed out to the class, not to ridicule, but to learn and therefore avoid. In the end even Ron had to admit DeLancy was an excellent instructor. And the longer the class went on, the pinker Hermione turned when those red eyes cast in her direction. When the period ended, she paused in the doorway to thank him for the lesson. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who gave him a sympathetic look.

Ron sighed as they made their way toward their next class. "Well." Harry ventured, brightly. "That wasn't so bad."

Ron grumbled, but was forced to concede the point. "There's one thing I don't get, though." He said, finally. Hermione raised her eyebrow at him, and he shook his head. "He seems like a decent sort. So how's he get on so well with Snape?"

* * *

The Gryffindor half of the fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class cringed as they entered the darkened classroom, taking in the shuttered windows, the flickering candles, and the horrific paintings adorning the walls. The Slytherin half was a bit less nervous, though still felt the oppressiveness of the atmosphere, and reflected it in subdued conduct as they took their seats. Their Professor favored them, yes, but that didn't make the room any less intimidating.

In truth, Snape knew a good proportion of the Slytherin students were essentially worthless as far as their capacity for learning, but he favored them anyway, as it was expected of him. He watched impassively as the students filed in. Ginny Weasley took a seat in a huddled group of Gryffindors, and he smirked at their intimidated expressions. He'd almost forgotten January DeLancy was in the class when she walked in, blinking once slowly, and taking a seat near the front, her burgandy eyes reflecting the flickering candles. She gave him a doll-like smile when his black eyes met hers, and he nodded to her, very slightly. He was curious to know what Gabriel and Beauxbatons had taught her. She'd been of age for quite some time, and he expected Gabriel hadn't neglected her education, not with his past. He half wondered why she was even in school as her father was more than qualified to tutor her better than any young, mortal instructors.

Snape glowered at the class for a long moment before launching into his speech about the multi-headed hydra that was the dark arts, and pointed out a few of the pictures spaced around the room; the price for underestimating the darkness was clear in the results of the Cruciatus curse, the Dementor's kiss, the Inferni.

January paid silent attention, though her expression reflected none of what she was thinking. Very like her father, he thought, nearly smirking.

"We shall start this lesson with something fairly simple." Snape continued, sharply. "Patronus." A few students stared at him in disbelief that he'd describe that as simple. "I understand a few of you . . . " His dark eyes glinted at the Gryffindor knot, "have some practice. So I expect a decent showing at the very least." He waved a hand toward the front of the classroom and once the students were gathered, used his wand to clear a path in the desks.

Several of the students were so cowed by his forbidding presence they only produced little silver sparks. He didn't bother to hide his sneer or the roll of his eyes when this happened. Ginny Weasley did rather well, defiantly marching to the front and managing to produce a corporeal patronus. Inspired, several of the other DA members followed suit. Snape made no comment.

January's turn came, and she calmly raised her pale wand, red and black lace peeking from the sleeve of her robes, and shouted her spell, her voice clear and forceful. As he expected, she produced a corporeal patronus, though its form was unusual. A ghostly silver thestral burst from her wand-tip, streaking silently across the room, fangs bared and wings outstretched. Finally the skeletal, draconic horse faded away.

"What the hell was that thing?" Muttered one student, prompting Snape to take five points from Gryffindor. One or two other students knew what the thing had been, and eyed January suspiciously. Though unaffected by ridiculous superstitions, the form of the patronus made even the Professor wonder. He and January regarded one another for a moment, and he awarded ten points to Slytherin for a corporeal patronus. Ginny Weasley and the others who'd done well on the Gryffindor side grit their teeth, glaring at him for the favoritism.

In the end Snape pronounced the vast majority of their efforts disappointing at best, and dismissed the class. He'd seated himself at his desk, and was staring at his lesson plans for the next period, ignoring the students filing swiftly out, when he was interrupted by a soft, polite cough. He looked up, not surprised to see January standing in front of his desk, regarding him with garnet eyes far too old for her apparent age. She gave him a small smile. "I'm pleased to finally meet you." Her voice was naturally soft, though clear, and only lightly accented. "Father speaks of you often, you know."

He wasn't entirely certain what to say to her. It was awkward enough knowing the girl was his old friend's daughter, and twice the age she appeared, but her nebulous statement made him wonder what she'd heard. He nodded, politely. "As he does of you." He returned, vaguely, placing them on equal footing, with a slight smile. "I see he wasn't exaggerating when he said he'd already tutored you. I wonder if he's left anything for me to teach."

The smile was broader this time, with more than a trace of Gabriel in it. "I daresay he's left a thing or two." She answered, her voice light. "He also has asked for me to extend his invitation to dinner tonight, in his chamber's sitting room. He'd have asked personally but as you know he's a bit confined to the dungeon during these hours."

He nodded, favoring her with a small smile. "Thank you. Please tell him to expect me."

The cast of her smile changed slightly, turning to a near-wolfish grin. "He already knew to expect you. He said you'd welcome the opportunity as it meant being away from the students." With that she nodded to him, politely, and took her leave, excusing herself as she passed the next group of students entering the class, Draco Malfoy pausing before going into the classroom to chat animatedly with her.

"Saw that, didn't you?" Ron muttered, darkly as they found a seat in Snape's classroom, already apprehensive. "Getting along with the worst of the lot." He gave a jerk of his head, indicating January, who was smiling up at Malfoy.

Hermione sniffed. "Not everyone feels the need to stomp around yelling their feelings, Ron. Maybe she's just being polite."

"Well, she was nice when she walked by us." Ventured Harry. "And . . . "

He was cut off as Snape called for order, ignoring entirely that Draco strolled in late, smirking as always.

* * *

Draco, it had seemed to January when she saw him on the train, fancied himself cock of the walk. The fact that no one seemed willing or nervy enough to challenge that was telling. Part of it had to do with his sycophants, Crabbe and Goyle, but he seemed also to have some other sort of sway, likely due to his family. He was obviously well off, and seemed to like to mention it, as well as being disparaging of muggles. In short everything about him screamed 'pure blood'. He had power, influence, and was likely up to his pale eyeballs in dark arts. He seemed the ideal sort to befriend; useful, and while bright, likely not insightful enough to become much threat.

She almost would have felt bad about using him, had he not been the type to continually hint at his fathers', and his own, affiliations with the Dark Lord. Even if it were an exaggeration, she had no compunction then about making him her tool, starting to work on making him like her so that she could use his knowledge and influence when she needed it. After all, his own intentions were rather transparent. She was attractive, a pure-blood, and in his own venerated Slytherin house. She'd look nice on his arm or at his side at the table, impress his friends. And best of all her father was a Professor. It was in his best interests that she liked him.

It was, all in all, a very Slytherin arrangement.

At the table, in the common room, everywhere they met, she gave him attention, making suitably impressed comments as he yammered on about Quidditch, cooing over him even as she entertained thoughts of dropping him headfirst off the astronomy tower.

She loathed any reminder of those who'd murdered her mother. It was a scar which would never heal, a vendetta she'd never let go. While being in Slytherin suited her, being subtle, devious, and with a dark streak, Voldemort and his followers were enemies she looked on with soul-deep hatred. However, being in that particular house afforded her certain opportunities to observe and overhear the children of Death Eaters. The braggarts with little self control were ideal for that aim. Therefore she walked with Draco between classes, had meals with him, sat in the common room and socialized, despising him, his family and his Lord. She purred over his stories, looked at him with soft eyes, all the while waiting for him to talk just a little too much, and give her something useful to bring to her father. And to the Order. Eventually Draco's need to impress would get the better of him. Until then she was exceedingly patient, coaxing him to trust and like her, manipulating the boy for her own needs.

She was, after all, very Slytherin indeed. The sorting hat had told her so.


	4. Spies

_Okay, so I've dropped off the planet for awhile, but I'm back, up and running (I hope). Thanks to whoever's reading!!! And if you want to check out a Justice League Unlimited story (shameless plug) I've just put up the first chapter of one! Anyhow, hope everyone enjoys the story, it really is a lot of fun to write in the Harry Potter world . . . I hope to do more! As usual, I own nothing but my own characters!! Please R/R!  
_

_Choix Chapter 3: Spies_

In the Gryffindor common room, one name was cursed above all others, and that was the name Severus Snape. Ginny railed against the blatant favoritism he'd shown the past weeks, to the Slytherins in general, and to his new favourite transfer student, January DeLancy, in specific. Ron had suggested that Snape simply preferred blondes, as he also favored Draco, and Ginny had responded by throwing her talking homework planner (a gift from Hermione) at his head.

The sixth years were experiencing similar woes, along with horrifying amounts of homework in every class. Even Harry and Ron buckled down, working steadily on Snape's assignments, with McGonagall's, Flitwick's, and DeLancy's still to do.

"I've had it. I'm going to stab myself to death with my quill." Announced Ron, dolefully, turning the ink end toward his chest. "Tell Fleur I love her."

Hermione rolled her eyes, snorting, and Ginny threw her homework planner at his head again. It bounced off, chirping "Do it today, or later you'll pay!" cheerfully.

Ron glowered at his sister, rubbing his head, as Harry sighed. "I'm done with this." He said, rolling up his parchment before Hermione could insist on reading the essay. "At least I seem to be getting good marks in Potions for a change."

That much was true. Professor DeLancy, while demanding of his students, and apparently determined to make the subject difficult, was fair, with no apparent bias for or against anyone in particular. While a bit intimidating in some nebulous way, he also didn't give the impression Snape had; one of a giant bat waiting to swoop down on any hint of an error. Neville had seemed quite grateful for that, and his decreased nervousness led to a slight, but noticeable decrease in the number of things he blew up or melted.

Ron sighed. "Yeah. But that doesn't change the fact he gave us a bloody twelve-inch essay on the applications of Insanity Solution. I thought we just brewed the potions, why do we have to think about them too?"

Hermione sniffed, derisively, and Harry ducked his head to hide his grin. It was nice to have at least a little normalcy . . . the term so far had been a somewhat odd one. It appeared to Harry and Ron that something was going on with Draco of late. He was even more self-satisfied than usual, and he'd been overheard more than a few times hinting about some sort of 'special mission' he was to receive in the near future. Hermione had pointed out that it could be simply something for class, but the boys found it doubtful. Still, there wasn't quite enough to bring to Dumbledore's attention without sounding paranoid.

Ron closed his potions book with a resounding clap, startling Hermione out of her study. "All right. That's it. I'm going down to dinner." He announced. "And I'm going to eat until I pass out." The lanky redhead shoved the thick red tome into his schoolbag.

Harry gave the clock a grateful glance. "All right, I'm starved." He replied, grinning, and even Hermione had to agree that a break was in order.

The Great Hall was buzzing with activity as the teachers and students took their places. Two chairs stood empty at the head table, as they were more often than not at dinnertime; DeLancy's and Snape's. Both men had made appearances at dinner, usually coinciding with some special announcement or another, but in general they seemed to prefer keeping their distance from other people. Harry had noticed that occasionally Draco was at his table without his usual partner, January. Tonight was one such night, and he wondered where she got off to, and if it had to do with her father and Snape's absences.

As they entered, Hermione glanced up at the head table and sighed, disappointed, as she often did when DeLancy was missing. Harry pretended not to notice, though it really seemed to annoy Ron.

When they'd taken their seats, Harry chatted quietly with Ginny while Ron tried to hold Hermione's attention, even going so far as to ask her advice on his Transfiguration homework. At the Slytherin table, things seemed a bit subdued, as Draco was without his favourite person to brag to. Certainly he could have made his boasts and postures to the other Slytherin students, but January seemed to draw out his bravado much more effectively. Harry would have been ready to write her off as just another of Draco's ilk had it not been for Luna.

Ravenclaw shared Care of Magical Creatures with Slytherin, and apparently Luna and January had become friendly. Recently Luna had appeared at dinner without her customary onion earrings, and instead wearing a quite pretty pair of moonstones. When Hermione complimented her on them, she'd said they were from January. Ron had spent days prophesying Luna's demise from her soul being sucked out through her earlobes, but Luna remained as healthy and odd as ever, and Ron had to grudgingly admit that the gift had been rather nice, and perhaps January wasn't so bad after all.

Still, Harry had to wonder. How could anyone even remotely nice be friends or possibly more with Malfoy?

* * *

January was already deeply in conversation with her father when Severus arrived for dinner in Gabriel's study. The first time she'd joined them for dinner, it had been mildly disconcerting; aside from in the Great Hall, he'd never had a meal with one of his students. Very shortly after they'd begun, however, Severus was reminded that she wasn't a teenager. This was a twenty-six year old woman in a slow-to-age body. Her maturity and intelligence were obvious from the moment he sat down, and he found himself enjoying her conversation as much as he did her father's.

Severus took his place with a nod, and thanked January as she filled his wineglass. Gabriel smiled a greeting, taking a slow sip of red, viscous liquid from his own glass. Unlike his companions, Gabriel's plate was empty. "Good evening, Severus." He purred, languidly. "January was just telling me that one of your students is making quite a bit of noise about being in the Dark Lord's employ for a special mission." He said it utterly offhandedly, and Severus smirked in reply.

"Draco Malfoy, yes?" He glanced at January, who returned his smirk and nodded. "Mm. The boy doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Before you ask, however, I've no idea what he's referring to." He sighed. "His mother attempted to contact me this Summer . . . I made excuses. Perhaps I ought to have met with her." In fact, he was almost certain he should have. It had occurred to him, of course, that she might have inadvertently given him information that could be valuable to the Order . . . but he'd assumed she would try using him in some way that would reduce his effectiveness as a spy and as an agent of the Order. It simply wasn't something he cared to risk. Now, however . . .

January cocked her head. "My question is, even if he's simply trying to impress others, how much truth there is to it. The mission at any rate. His bravado knows no bounds, after all. I can't imagine he'd be above stretching the truth." She sipped her goblet, like her father's filled with red, viscous liquid.

Severus frowned a bit. "That may be . . . though after his father has . . . displeased the Dark Lord, I'd have no doubt Draco may be given a dangerous or . . . unpleasant . . . mission as punishment. The fact that he's crowing about it suggests he's no idea of what's to come." He sighed, softly.

January nodded, turning back to her food as her father picked up the conversation, and they discussed tactics, and other Order business. She wondered if she ought to feel at least a bit sorry for Malfoy. The Dark Lord could kill him, or his mother, outright. Instead he was possibly toying with them. He'd have no qualms at all about sending a boy of sixteen off to die attempting to complete a mission far above his ability. And thus far, Draco had no idea what he was in for. Well, she reminded herself, that's a risk one takes when one is foolish enough to become a death-eater. Sixteen or not, he deserved his fate, whatever it turned out to be.

"Obviously the dungeon would be the most defendable position, though we'd have to have if nothing else emergency portkeys if we have to retreat . . . " Gabriel was saying, as Severus nodded.

"It will be difficult at best for the Dark Lord to penetrate the defenses here, with Dumbledore keeping watch . . . " Severus frowned, taking a sip of wine. "But it's become all too obvious from the past few years that there are cracks to be slipped through.

"And that his followers have positioned their children to find them." January frowned slightly. "The instructors here are excellent but I do believe many of them underestimate just how immersed in the Dark Lord's fold some of the students are."

Snape frowned but inclined his head slightly. "You have a point, though you did say yourself that it was and is likely some of them would stretch the truth for the sake of their peers."

January nodded, lacing her fingers on the table. "Yes. Unfortunately it's taking more time that I'd anticipated to separate the truth from the exaggerations. However . . . " Her garnet eyes settled on Snape's. "There's at least a grain of truth, particularly to Draco's blustering. He might not even be aware of just how useful his information could be, but he's reporting back to someone. He sends off letters regularly."

Severus nodded. "We'll look into it." He said, mildly. Her wording caused pieces to slide into place in his mind, but he kept silent until dinner was done, and they took their leave from Gabriel, January kissing him on the cheek, warmly, and Severus grasping his hand. As he and the girl walked the silent, empty hall together, he glanced over.

"I trust we can expect you to continue your surveillance and report back?" He said, offhandedly.

The dark, doll-like mouth quirked to one side. "Mm, yes, naturally." She said, sweetly. "Though don't expect too much, I imagine your test this week will be quite brutal . . ."

Snape chuckled. "You could be teaching the class. Any one of them. Do you realize that when you deliberately give incorrect answers on a test it's always a question number that is a multiple of three?"

The dark, burgundy eyes slid up to him, and she raised an eyebrow. "I should be more careful about that." She agreed, clasping her hands behind her. "It appears we each find ourselves in the capacity of spy, _N'est-ce pas? _"

He smiled a bit, pausing as the hall branched, his rooms to the left, her dorms to the right, arms folded as he looked down at her. "How do you stand it?" He asked, curiously. "You must have the patience of any number of saints to put up with the students and not . . . "

She smirked, mirroring his stance as she likewise paused. "Curse them to oblivion? Give them a bit of a nip?" She smiled, flashing the tips of sharp little teeth and shrugged. "I just remind myself it would be more trouble than they're worth. And as satisfying as it would be were they to stop talking . . . well, I suppose that would defeat my purpose."

He couldn't help chuckling softly. "Goodnight, Miss DeLancy. I don't envy you." He sighed, shaking his head and beginning to move down the hall again, toward his rooms, parting ways.

She smiled, inclining her head in answer, turning away and frowning, very slightly. "Nor I you." She said, too softly for him to hear.


End file.
